


Don't Chase the Rabbit

by ofmessaline



Category: Twelfth Night (1996), Twelfth Night - Shakespeare
Genre: Gen, sort of attempted assassination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2014-03-07
Packaged: 2018-01-14 23:24:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1282537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofmessaline/pseuds/ofmessaline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a prompt on Tumblr: "Write a scene from your character's past". The first time someone attempted to assassinate the Duke of Illyria.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Chase the Rabbit

**Author's Note:**

> Taken from my RP blog illyrianduke.

He had only been a few months in office. His father before him had been very well-received during his entire reign, and Orsino the younger hoped that he would have similar luck.

No matter who you asked, the new Duke was spoken of as attractive, compassionate, and very much like his father before him (“may he rest in peace.”) Although the boy was still in mourning, Illyria needed a leader, and he was nothing if not dutiful. Of course, having inherited his father’s love for his country, he would always place Illyria in front of himself.

His clothes were still all black, but otherwise he didn’t act like he was in mourning. Well, almost — he refused to sit in his father’s seat behind the Duke’s desk. It didn’t feel right, especially since he had a large assortment of memories about hiding under that desk as a small child and clinging to his father’s legs, or sitting in his father’s lap to watch him write letters.

No matter how uncomfortable he might have felt about it, he was forced to move into the royal chambers. He hated returning to those rooms ever night, knowing that he was the only one left in the family line in Illyria. He would toss and turn every night, suffused in nightmares and memories.

One night, however, about four months after his father’s death and his following coronation, he had managed to actually fall asleep, and deeply so.

But when he woke, it was to… _something_ …being pressed against his face. He couldn’t breathe — couldn’t think — couldn’t  _move_ , although he was doing his absolute best to flail and call out for help, scratching for hold on whoever was trying to kill him.

Just as his vision began to go black and his body began to go slack, there was a loud bang of the door opening and then another loud bang of a gun going off. The pressure on his face was immediately lifted, and the boy, coughing heavily, sat up. His weak vision hit the figure in the doorway: it was one of his men, Valentine. Their eyes locked for a second before Orsino gave a slight nod in thanks.

The body was removed from the room by Valentine and his close friend Curio, and Orsino was left alone again. He shakingly laid back down, but he didn’t sleep a wink the entire night.

The next morning, Orsino silently made his way into his office and sat — finally — in the seat behind the desk.


End file.
